my dad (Alun)
who has lived long and intends longer
plays golf
of course
on his birthday which comes around faster
each time
battery charged
ready for another eighteen
with Eileen (my mam)
who takes the money
and puts it behind the clock on the proverbial
mantelpiece, which keeps going.
You’re time-expired, you’ve been retired, cold-shouldered from the job-scene,
you’re surplus to requirements, a sad, discarded has-been,
your use-by date has come and gone, you’re on the shelf from this point on,
you see yourself rejected, diminished and demeaned.
terse
short verse
longer the poem
rhyme gets worse
struggling spelling
words need nurse
death of language
remove in hearse
see dave – I can do rhyme 🙂
For some who choose to sip from the Spring of Hyppocrene
rhyming’s like a virus for which there’s no vaccine;
our poems read like excerpts from traditional pantomime
Beware you would-be wordsmiths, the curse of verse is rhyme
Rhyme’s merely ornamental, a sort of literary glue
fun when writing doggerel or limericks or clerihew
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I sit here in my cocoon gazing at the football grey February morning. The only sounds are the muffled voices of people outside the envelope punctuated by the occasional thud of ball.
Cars turn up and doors slam. The electrified East Coast line marks one boundary but no trains yet. It is Sunday morning.
From my vantage point I can see the whole pitch. The green of the grass is in noticeable contrast to the otherwise dull winter scene surrounding the ground.
Don’t wait until you can’t attend the party. How many times are there when you get all your old mates together in the same room? Probably not since your wedding. Well now’s the chance. Don’t wait until you are dead. Conduct your own wake now. Chose the music, what you want to say about yourself, the venue!
Only problem is that if people know you aren’t actually dead will they come to the wake? Avoid the embarrassment of finding out who your real friends are by suggesting they have their own wake at the same time. That way they will definitely want to come.
Derventio “Et Tu Brutus” 4.5% £2.95
Derventio Winter Gold 4.0% £2.95
Exmoor Gold 4.5% £2.95
Tom Wood’s Harvest Bitter 4.3% £2.95
Everards Sunchaser 4% £2.95
Hopback Cropcircle 4% £2.95
Fyne Ales Highlander 4.8% £2.95
Harvestown Haggis Hunter 4.3% £2.95
Broadoak Perry (pear cider) 7.5% £2.00
They were obviously trying to shift the Perry
the dishwasher is on in the kitchen again. it is very relaxing. in the same category as photocopying but different.
the house is quiet – other than a debate going on upstairs regarding who has rights to the hot water from the immersion heater. unlike the water it isn’t a heated debate. more of a vocal eyebrow raise.
I can hear the bath running and the downstairs toilet flushing. outside it is raining though it is a silent rain.
then the peace is disturbed…
The service was due to start at 2pm but by 1.40 if you weren’t already in you weren’t going to get a seat. We sat there in our Sunday funereal best biding our time. I was glad I had dressed soberly although I had considered doing otherwise. This didn’t stretch to a tie.
I’ll not have any 9 year old kid beating me at arm wrestling thank you!
Anne bought a job lot of leeks, boy,
From a little chap down some dark alley.
He said, “These will last you for weeks, boy,
Since I’ve heard your Tref’s from the valley.”
But Trefor’s too posh for such things, boy –
He’s moved on to mangetout and zucchini
In his dreams that’s the food that anne brings boy
Served up whilst she wears her bikini
The view from the top of the Post Office Tower on a not very nice day in January. There were some snow flurries though I’m not sure these are visible on the video – take a look. The three videos represent a 360 degree tour.
It pelts down and the unwary get wet.
forty days and forty nights seem like an eternity
all hail Saint Swithin and all who sail in her
flood alerts fill the wet air waves
another notch on the windscreen wiper control
oh no a leak, fetch a bucket
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